


A Soulmate's Pain

by fantasybean



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt John Watson, Hurt/Comfort, John will be ok - promise :), M/M, Married Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Soulmates, Stabbing, Surgery, Worried Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasybean/pseuds/fantasybean
Summary: Soulmates can feel each other's pain.One day, Sherlock is looking into a case while John is at work when pain explodes through his abdomen. But not his pain - his husband John's.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 192





	A Soulmate's Pain

Once you’d met your soulmate, it didn’t usually take long before you’d realise it was them. Your other half. The One. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but it was useful in some ways that the identifying factor was that you could feel their pain. Scientists claimed it was based around survival and protection – to detect when your other half was in pain was useful in dire situations. Many a time a soulmate had prevented the death of their other half by simply knowing they were in pain and reaching them in time to help. Additionally, statistically, physical abuse was far less likely between soulmates. People were lucky to have, and to meet, their soulmate. In society their relationships were the most revered, even above marriage.

For Sherlock and John, one day into sharing a flat they realised they were soulmates.

Pottering about the kitchen, John stubbed his toe on the corner of a kitchen cabinet.

“Fuck!” he yelled and grabbed his foot. Simultaneously there was a yell from across the room where Sherlock sat in his armchair. Also grabbing his foot. They had locked eyes, and in moments the painful pinkie toes were forgotten.

“I can’t believe-“

“-it’s you.”

They whispered into each other’s mouths as they met in a passionate kiss (that honestly they’d wanted to do the second they’d met at St Bart’s).

* * *

Later that evening, lying side by side in Sherlock’s bed after thoroughly exploring each other’s bodies, Sherlock was gently stroking the scar on John’s shoulder. It was still a little fresh and red, but pretty much healed over. He had a frown creasing his forehead that John gently stroked away with the tips of his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” John said.

Sherlock didn’t need to ask what for. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I thought for a moment that you wouldn’t make it. It was… excruciating.”

John pulled Sherlock closer and held him close against his chest “It was. I… I thought about you when it happened. Well… the idea of you. That my soulmate was somewhere out in the world, but right with me in that… pain.”

“I was there, John. Right with you.” Sherlock took John’s hand and held it tightly.

John pressed a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s lips “What happened? That day? I know sometimes soulmates have been hospitalised if their other half is in such an awful way… either from the pain or from the psychological trauma.”

“It happened early in the morning. Afghanistan is a few hours ahead in time. I… I was sleeping and then suddenly I wasn’t. The pain crashed through me. I thought… I don’t know. I could barely think, honestly. I called Mycroft.”

“Really?”

“Yes. After a few moments I realised I wasn’t actually harmed. So I knew it was you who was hurt. I demanded… begged… that he found you. Found out who you were. I needed to save you. The pain didn’t recede, and I passed out on the phone. Next thing I knew, he came marching into my room with a medical team. There’s an argument amongst the scientific community as to whether the unharmed soulmate not being able to use pain medication to get rid of the pain is an evolutionary flaw or not. They had to knock me out because it was too much and I was getting quite distressed, so I’m told.” Sherlock pressed his face into John’s neck and took a deep breath.

“Once I was on pain relief, that must have helped.” John said.

“Oh, it did, considerably. There was still a dull pain though. I rather liked it though. I knew you were alive.”

“Amazing how attached we are to our soulmates before we’ve even laid eyes on them.” John smiled.

“Indeed. Is it true what they say?” Sherlock looked up at John with a smirk.

“What is it they say?” John asked, tangling a bare leg with Sherlock’s.

“That the sex is better?” a grin split across his face.

John laughed “Yes. Absolutely better. The phrase ‘seeing stars’ is right on the money.”

“Good. I know a lot of people who are aware they have a soulmate still date and have sex with other people before meeting them… but I never saw the attraction. I had other interests that took my time and attention. Also, nobody else held much attraction to me.”

“Mmm…” John smiled “That’s nice to know. That I’m the only one to pull you away from your various hobbies. To be honest, I screwed around a lot, wanted to be really good for when my soulmate showed up.”

“Well, the practice came in handy, I assure you.” Sherlock sat up and straddled John’s waist “But I think it’s my turn to get a little practice in.”

John pulled Sherlock down for a hard kiss, pushing his tongue into his mouth and they both moaned at the intimacy of it.

* * *

“John! A case!” Sherlock put his coat on “John!” No answer.

Sherlock frowned and was just about to send his husband of two years a strongly worded text about abandoning him and Scotland Yard in their time of need without so much as a heads up when he spotted a note pinned to the door.

Called into the surgery. Be back around 5. Take away later? Don’t get into trouble.

Sherlock smirked.

_What is too much trouble? -SW-H_

A text alert pinged on his phone five minutes into his cab journey to Scotland Yard.

_Don’t get arrested. Again. And don’t use our new bathtub for your experiments. Again. -JW-H_

_Well… I shall endeavour for today’s trouble to be a new surprise for you. -SW-H_

_Brilliant. -JW-H_

_I want fish and chips later. -SW-H_

_I’ll pick it up on route home. -JW-H_

_Text first. Might not be in. Got a case. -SW-H_

_And I’m missing it? Hope it’s not a good one! -JW-H_

_Arriving now. Will talk later. -SW-H_

_OK! Got a patient now anyway. Love you. -JW-H_

_So you should. -SW-H_

_Cheeky bastard. You’re meant to say it back. -JW-H_

_But you know I do? -SW-H_

_Go solve a case. -JW-H_

_Love you. -JW-H_

_Fine. I love you too. Go be a Doctor. -SW-H_

Sherlock popped his phone back into his pocket and handed a few notes to the driver.

* * *

“Ah! Sherlock!” Lestrade looked relieved to see him as he arrived on the 5th floor where he and his team were stood in front of a large white board with a few pictures stuck up and words that didn’t quite fit the pictures, if Sherlock was to be asked. Which he would be.

“Lestrade. Why call me here and not directly to the crime scene? You know the scene is always better.” Sherlock scowled.

Quite a few members of the team rolled their eyes at the rude consultant.

“The scene was in a public area so it’s already been cleared away. We initially thought it was quite a simple murder, but things are more complicated than we thought…” Lestrade said. Sherlock could see from the depth of his frown that this was really troubling him so he sighed and stepped up towards the white board.

“Come on then, Holmes. Hit us with the facts.” Donovan crossed her arms impatiently.

Sherlock looked at the photos on the board then snatched up the case file “It’s Watson-Holmes, Donovan, has been for quite some time now.”

“Still married then? Where is he? Not run for the hills yet?” Anderson teased.

“Yes, still. He’s at work. And statistically speaking, the likelihood of my soulmate running in any direction but towards me is very unlikely. Such a shame you don’t have one, Anderson – so your… second wife, is it? – AH!” Sherlock suddenly couldn’t breathe. The splitting pain in his abdomen had him hunched over, pulling the case file in.

“Sherlock?!” Lestrade grabbed him by the shoulders as he went down “What’s wrong? Sherlock!”

Sherlock was on his knees, taking in panicked gasps of breath. He looked down and dropped the file to see his stomach. Nothing. No blood.

“Sherlock? Can you hear me? What is it?” Lestrade urged.

“John. Oh G- No- Not…” Sherlock fell onto his hands now, gasping.

“Donovan – call John now!” Lestrade ordered.

Sherlock curled in on himself and pushed at his own stomach. It was right in the middle, sharp and harsh. He could feel tears slipping down his face. Lestrade pulled him to sit against the wall.

“No answer, sarge.” Donovan sounded panicked too.

Sherlock grabbed his phone out of his pocket and pressed speed dial 2. As it rang he dropped the phone as another wave of pain hit him.

Lestrade collected it, put it on loud speaker and held it in front of Sherlock’s face.

“Brother mine?” Mycroft answered.

“John… pain. Get him help. He’s… at work.” He managed to grind out behind clenched teeth.

“Two minutes.” Mycroft answered and hung up.

Lestrade knelt beside Sherlock, a hand gripping the man’s shoulder in hopes it would keep him grounded. Sherlock was groaning and gripping at his stomach desperately.

“John… John… Not my John…” Sherlock gasped.

Whispers broke out amongst the team in the room. “Alright, give him some space, for Christ’s sake!” Lestrade yelled at them, making them all back off, some of them even leaving the room.

Those two minutes were the longest of Sherlock’s life. He gripped onto his own stomach as if he was gripping onto John. He couldn’t move, his legs felt like jelly from the pain and shock of it.

The phone rang and Lestrade put it back on speaker.

“Sherlock. You know this from the pain, but John is alive. He’s being put in an Ambulance as we speak to St Thomas’.”

“What happened?” Sherlock grit out.

“He was stabbed. A patient with a history of schizophrenia-“

“Is it bad?” Sherlock cut in.

“The Doctors at the surgery intervened quickly, he’s reportedly conscious. The Doctors at the hospital will be able to find out more.” Mycroft sounded soft and caring over the little mobile speaker.

“I… I need to go.” Sherlock hung up and tried to push himself off the floor.

“Alright. Let’s get you in one of our cars and we’ll get you to St Thomas’.” Lestrade took pity on the man and wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him up. Sherlock stumbled alongside Lestrade out of the room and into the lift.

* * *

In the car to the hospital it was silent but for Sherlock’s groans and sniffles.

Quite suddenly Sherlock gasped and rang his brother “Mycroft. The pain. It’s lessening. What’s happening?”

“He’s going into surgery now. It’ll be the pain medication or them putting him under. Don’t panic, brother.” Mycroft soothed.

Sherlock hung up and stared at the road ahead, wishing it to go faster.

* * *

Lestrade helped a shaky Sherlock to the reception desk “I’m Sherlock Watson-Holmes, my husband John Watson-Holmes is here. I’m told he’s been stabbed and has gone into surgery. Can I see him now?”

The receptionist stared at him in a momentary shock “Umm… let me just check the system.” A few clicks of a computer and she added “Yes, he’s in surgery now. But you’ll have to wait to see him-“

“I can’t wait. Please. I need to see him. He’s my soulmate.” Sherlock urged.

“But sir-“Lestrade interrupted her “I’m sorry, but he’s just had the feeling of being stabbed without being stabbed, then realised it was his husband. He’s in a great deal of distress. Is there any way we can get him to see his husband? Please? He won’t disturb the doctors. He just needs the reassurance of seeing him.”

She sent a pitying look to Sherlock, his bloodshot eyes and stressed frown “I’ll talk to a Doctor. See if we can’t perhaps make an exception due to them being soulmates. One moment please.”

* * *

Sherlock was sat on a waiting room chair, staring at the door the receptionist had disappeared through.

“He’ll be fine. John’s a fighter.” Lestrade tried to say in a comforting way.

“I know he’s a fighter.” Sherlock snapped harshly. There was a dull ache in his stomach and a lump in his throat.

A Doctor walked through the doors alongside the receptionist, who returned to her desk.

“Mr Watson-Holmes?” The Doctor stood before him queried, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“That’s me. Can I see my husband. Please?” Sherlock said. He just needed to see him. Just see him alive. Just look at him.

“I’ve been informed that you are his soulmate?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“We do understand the severe stress today has undoubtedly brought you, and with the psychological trauma included this must be exceedingly difficult for you. At our discretion we are able to bring you into the theatre to be with him. However, there are conditions.” She said.

“Anything.” Sherlock said, his heart beating a little faster at the hope of seeing him.

“Firstly, you will need to change into scrubs and wash your hands and up your arms. The environment must be as sanitary as possible, obviously. No phones or electronics in the theatre.” She instructed “We will also have a hospital security member with you should you become too distressed or attempt to interfere.”

“That’s fine.” Sherlock stood up, still slightly unsteady.

“Excuse me, instead of security – can I assist there? I’m a police officer?” Lestrade flashed his warrant card.

“Again, no phones, scrub up and sanitise.” The doctor nodded “Now, come with me.” She walked them through the doors and over to a locker room. She dug out two sets of scrubs.

Sherlock and Lestrade were left in the room to change, which they did as quickly as possible, before opening the door to find the Doctor waiting just outside. She took their phones and put them in a locker.

“Follow me. He’s just 2 floors up.” She walked them through the corridors towards John “I forgot to introduce myself, sorry, was a little hectic earlier. It’s a bit quieter now though thankfully. I’m Doctor Jackson. I work in the ER department. I was Mr Watson-Holmes’ first Doctor when they brought him in. He lost quite a bit of blood. However, he was stable and conscious. We did a CT scan and blood work. He’s having a laparotomy now which will determine if any unknown damage has been done, but hopefully he will be stitched up and right as rain in no time.” She gave Sherlock an encouraging smile.

“He was conscious… did he say anything? Did he understand what had happened?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“He did understand. He wasn’t able to talk much due to the distress, but he did call out for Sherlock, which I assume is you?” she smiled.

Sherlock nodded and looked down at his blue scrubs. They didn’t feel right on him. But he’d bear it to see John.

“You’re definitely up to this, yeah, Sherlock?” Lestrade checked as they exited the lift.

“Of course. I need to see him in front of me.” Sherlock said.

“I know. It’s just… I was there for my wife’s C-section with our second kid. It’s quite graphic and-“

“Lestrade. I am not squeamish. I frequently see much worse than a surgery.” Sherlock said.

“I know. But this is John. Just… try to be calm. And for God’s sake, don’t disturb the operation.”

“Of course, I won’t. He needs to get better.” Sherlock said matter of factly as Doctor Jackson brought them to the sinks just by the operating room “Wash your hands thoroughly, as instructed on this poster.” She pointed.

Sherlock and Lestrade thoroughly scrubbed at their hands and arms then dried off on some paper towels.

“Please be as quiet as possible.” She said then led them into the theatre.

Lestrade had his hand hovering by Sherlock’s elbow, ready to pull him away in a millisecond.

Sherlock only had eyes for the man on the table. A team surrounded John's abdomen as they worked on his wound.

“Doctor Oakley. This is Sherlock Watson-Holmes, he’s John here’s soulmate.” Doctor Jackson said quietly to a tall man who was currently changing instruments.

“Ah. Hello there. Everything is going quite well here. Please don’t be alarmed.” Doctor Oakley met Sherlock’s eyes, and Sherlock relaxed minutely. The man had a wisdom to him, with his wrinkled eyes and relaxed demeanour “Today must have been very upsetting for you.” He added kindly.

“Can I… Can I touch him?” Sherlock asked softly, as if he was scared to disturb the air.

“Yes. But please stay by his head. And be gentle. He’s under anaesthetic.” The Doctor gestured to John’s head.

Doctor Jackson gave Lestrade a nod, seeing the situation was under control, and left the room. Lestrade stayed just behind Sherlock’s shoulder, and winced when he saw the bloody mess down at John’s belly. Sherlock avoided looking there, his eyes looked to John’s pale face. While the Doctor resumed his work, Sherlock took a seat on a stool a nurse had rolled over to him. He sat right above John’s head. Looking down at his husband, he could see a few smudges of blood on his cheek, but otherwise he just looked like he was sleeping. Well… sleeping with tape over his eyes and a shower cap on. 

“It’s me, John. I’m here. You’re okay now.” Sherlock reached a hand up and stroked John’s forehead.

* * *

Once the operation was over they transported John to a private room, courtesy of Mycroft. Lestrade went home with a promise to visit soon.

Sherlock didn’t leave John’s side, and once settled in the room he had the shower cap and tape removed and a gown put on him as well as a blanket.

“Brother mine.”

Sherlock looked up to the doorway to find Mycroft. Looking sleek as always in his suit with his umbrella.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded before returning to his study of John’s face, waiting for signs of wakefulness.

“How is my brother-in-law?”

“The operation went well. Nothing to be worried about.” Sherlock sighed with relief.

“That is good news indeed. And how are you?” Mycroft asked.

“Glad to be here with him. Unlike the last time.” Sherlock squeezed John’s hand a little at the memory of the shoulder wound.

“I can imagine.” Mycroft took a seat on the other side of John’s bed.

After a few moments of silence Sherlock said “I… thank you, Mycroft. For all you have done today.”

“Of course. You’re family. He’s family.” Mycroft said.

Sherlock nodded and lowered his head to rest on his and John’s hand. He took a few calming breaths.

* * *

Mycroft left an hour later, after ensuring Mrs Hudson would be informed of the circumstances.

As the evening wore on Sherlock rested his eyes while keeping his hand gripping his husband’s and hoping to feel some movement soon. But the first thing he felt was a twinge in his abdomen. He looked up and a second later John’s previously serene expression morphed into a frown.

“John?” he leant forward.

“-Lock?”

“Yes.”

John didn’t open his eyes, but squeezed Sherlock’s hand “What happened?”

“You were stabbed at the Doctor’s surgery. In the stomach. A paranoid schizophrenic patient… Mycroft informs me he has been sectioned. You had surgery for your wound and are set to recover fully.”

“Oh God… I’m sorry, Sher…” he whispered, slowly flickering his eyes open to meet Sherlock’s.

“Please, don’t apologise. Just… thank you for not…” Sherlock trailed off, not wanting to mention the word.

“Dying?” John quirked the corner of his mouth up a bit in amusement “I could never… who would look after you?”

“Quite.” Sherlock agreed and felt his heart lifting a bit at seeing his John with that small smile.

“Are you ok?” John asked.

Sherlock was about to say “yes” when the word caught in his throat and all that came out was a soft sob that caught the man himself by surprise.

“Oh Sherlock. Come here.” John pulled at Sherlock’s hand. He did as he was told and knelt at the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding any tubes or wires. John pulled Sherlock down into his side and the tall man buried his face in his neck and quietly cried.

John sighed softly into Sherlock's curls, tangled his fingers in them and gently rubbed a soothing pattern into his husband's scalp. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I love you.”

“I was scared, John.” Sherlock took a breath and John's comforting scent surrounded him, making him feel a little more level with every moment.

“I know... Me too.” John pulled Sherlock’s face up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” Sherlock said against John’s lips.

“So you should.” John grinned.

Sherlock let out a wet chuckle and blinked the tears away “Cheeky bastard.”

“That you love.”

“I do.”

“That you love enough to wait on, hand and foot?”

“… Until you’re better.”

“Of course. But I’m going to enjoy you cooking, and cleaning, and rubbing my feet, and bathing me, and-“

“You’ve thought about this a lot.” Sherlock interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

“Only in my fantasies.”

“Hmm… see, my fantasies regarding you are much more fun.”

“Oh really? Well I’ve got some fun ones too…” John yawned.

“Sounds it.” Sherlock huffed a laugh at John’s big yawn.

“Mmm-sorry. Just. Tired again. Stay with me?” John asked.

“You’re never getting rid of me, John. I have it on paper.” Sherlock confirmed.

John chuckled tiredly as his eyes drifted shut “Me too. Also got it on my soul.” He tapped the centre of his chest.

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John’s temple “Sleep, John. I love you. And thank you for not leaving. And did I mention I love you? Perhaps more every moment. It’s quite curious, if this carries on I might explode with love for you.”

John chuckled with his eyes shut, enjoying Sherlock’s rambling “Explode with love. Now that’s a way to go.”

Sherlock huffed a laugh then went back to nuzzling into John’s neck.

“I like the outfit by the way… keep it…” John mumbled.

Sherlock smirked down at his scrubs and was about to make a witty retort when a soft snore left John’s nose. So instead he just smiled and held John's warm hand in his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a kudo or a comment if you like! I'd appreciate it :) Constructive criticism welcome (just getting back into writing so hoping it's alright!)


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